Meeting Mukti

As my eyes look for answers in the sky, the process is hindered it seems when I hear my daughter's cry from the garden some feets apart. I get up from the garden bench and rush to my daughter. She fell while playing and hurt her feet, I take her in my arms and reach the nearby water tap of the garden premises.

I gently place her legs below the tap. As water flows over her feet, I gently rub the same over the wound on her feet. I'm so immersed in clearing all the blood of the wound that I forget to look at my daughter's face and to ask if she felt better. After cleaning the wound properly I take a breath of satiety and make my head rise up to see my daughter's face. My eyes don't believe what they see. Her frock has taken the form of a red coloured Saree, the same colour which was present on the wound moments before. Her hair which was tied into a cute pony is now open. Her eyes looks captivating and divinity radiates from them in all directions. She begins to speak-
" Where were you son? I was searching  you for ages"
"Maai! Somehow ignorance never allowed me to believe you existed"
"Son, was the worldly noise so loud that you couldn't hear your mother's call?"
"I considered the worldly noice to be the truth which led all my focus to go there preventing me from realising you Maai"
"How did you find me now then O son"
" Some answers which I wanted from me and not the world which made me to reach my real nature Maai"
" Now that you have found me , will you again forget me?", As she says this I notice something, though there is a holy radiance emanating from her face there exists the same childlike innocent smile of my daughter.
I reply," This body shall be coloured by the worldly things O Maai, but my soul shall remain drenched in your Bhakti(devotion) for that is my reality. I'm that water on your feet...", I say that and touch the water on her feet. She keeps her hands on my head and I close my eyes.

"Get up! Are you alright?", I see my wife's blurred face , I gain consciousness and try to sit. My wife narrates that when I brought my daughter to the tap to clean her wound I fell unconscious and my head hit the tap, my daughter ran to the apartment somehow and called her. I take a glance at my daughter's feet, it is clean. On reaching home I look into the mirror. My forehead has a mark, which is red in colour, just like the one on my daughter's feet moments before, the wound is no more a wound , it's a realisation, since it's texture and colour is permanent now.